


Blood Fever

by ritsuko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Fighting for Dominance, Fuck Or Die, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Pon Farr, Shower Sex, disturbing flashbacks, kal-if-fee, vulcan rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is dead. McCoy is trying to save him. The Enterprise is barely staying in the air.</p>
<p>It's the perfect time for the Pon Farr to hit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Symptoms

**Author's Note:**

> I had to. I am taking a few liberties (as always) with how the Pon Farr works. . . too much to explain in a blurb, so just read on if you dare. 
> 
> I'm not the best smut writer, but this will be very, very Khock-y. :3

It feels so good, his fist smashing repeatedly into the super human's face, that he almost can't hear Uhura screaming at him to stop. He almost doesn't listen, until she says the most important words-

"It's the only way to save Kirk's life." He gazes up at her, fists bloody, eyes wide with pain and rage, deciphering her words in his fury, trying to calculate their meaning. Finally, the words she stated register, and emotions overcome him. Jim. Jim could live. This bastard could die later. He looks back down at Khan, who finally, after being stunned and beaten so many times finally looks almost ready to stay down.

Just to be sure, he throws one more punch, shattering the man's jaw, and finally knocking him unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is in the med bay that Spock feels the first wave of heat, burning through to his core. He stiffens, body coiling, ready to strike at anything that will come at him. Staring around at the room, he assesses that nothing is an immediate threat, and then startles. Nothing is happening around him that could hurt him. Dr. McCoy is hurriedly working on a blood transfusion between Khan and Kirk. Uhura looks on in worry, casting him troubled glances. Khan is still unconscious. And Jim is still dead.

Vehemence wells up in him, and it's so hard to tamp down, so hard not to stride to the super human's side and wring his perfect neck until the heartbeat is gone-

Spock grimaces at the violent thought. It isn't him, isn't logical that he would be thinking of taking the life of this man. Not while he was unconscious and the only thing that might save his captain.

McCoy draws blood several times from the unconscious man, taking as much as he can before Khan comes to. Uhura comes to stand beside Spock, right next to him and not touching, as if she wants to comfort him, but something is stopping her. Scaring her. It's completely logical. He has only had such a violent outburst once before, when he almost choked Jim to death on the bridge of the Enterprise, an action that he would have regretted forever. But this, seeing the man that had hurt his friend, condemned their entire crew to die in a ship crash that could only be stopped by Jim's heroic and selfless act, only makes him wish he had detonated those torpedoes with Khan's crew inside them.

Gritting his teeth, Spock shakes his head, aware that a dull buzzing is filling his brain. He doesn't really think that. . . McCoy is saying something but it's hard to hear, and Jim's face is so tranquil, so empty and slightly bloated and red with the poison that killed him. Just that face fills him with such sorrow, such anger. He wants to go to his side, lay beside him, shake him awake, something, anything to illicit a response-

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Nyota threads her fingers through his, the shock of the touch stirring something unbidden and hot within him. He gazes down into her deep chocolate eyes, and feels the need to place his hands all over her, right in this med bay-

Spock jumps back, slamming against the wall. _Oh no. Not here. Not now._ He is aware that both she and the doctor are staring at him in trepidation, but his mouth can't seem to form words. She takes a step towards him, but he puts up a hand in alarm, a warning to stay away.

"Dammit man, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Spock, what is it?"

The voices rush his head and he feels need welling inside him. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to form some calming mantra, some piece of meditation that will keep him sane and rational, at least for the next hour or so. After that, it will be too late. 

"Please. Do not come any closer. I am too dangerous at this moment."

He can hear Nyota's breath hitch, confusion in her being. It's so thick in the air that he can taste it. But the doctor has gone still. 

"Spock, I can't stop working on Jim. This is time sensitive. I don't know what I can do to help you."

The Vulcan barks out a short laugh, half mad with emotion. "There is nothing that you can do for me, doctor. There is nothing that anyone can do now." He speaks the words and feels utter hopelessness. He is too far from New Vulcan, the ship is too low on power. Even if there was some way, the chance that he would be able to make it in time is statistically impossible.

He can sense Uhura wants to come to him, but his breathing evens when she backs away, and it doesn't take much to realize that she has been pulled back by Bones. Good man. He would thank him immensely when this was over. If he survived.

"Spock, please, tell me what's wrong!" she pleads, and the tone of her voice rakes at his sanity. He can't handle the flood of irrational emotion clawing at his brain. Slowly he opens his eyes, and she gasps at how turbulent they have become. He opens his mouth, trying to work the words, but they will not come. He feels ashamed, of what this is doing to him and how she is seeing him for the first time in a new and utterly dangerous light.

Bones clears his throat. "Uhura. I'm going to need you to leave. Go to the bridge, make sure we're okay." The doctor and lieutenant share a glance and she nods silently, heading for the door. "Make sure that we do not inform Starfleet for the time being that we have Khan. We need this bastard here if we're gonna save Jim." The lieutenant nods, and glances back once, but leaves saying nothing. Spock is grateful for it. 

The doctor continues to work over the captain and the super human, collecting and transfusing blood, and barely looks up. "We haven't much time, do we?" 

Confused, Spock just stares at McCoy. "What. . . do you. . ."

"The Pon Farr. That's what this is, isn't it?" Dark eyes flash up to his, and Spock's heart sinks. If the doctor knows, then it is truly inevitable that he will not survive before he goes mad. Bones continues to pull blood from Khan, also administering another sedative to be on the safe side. "You Vulcans are pretty damn tight lipped about yourselves, but I'll be damned if I didn't do my research."

Incredulously, Spock cannot help but cock his head at the older man. "That you know about the Pon Farr is remarkable, doctor. It is one of the most tightly kept secrets of the Vulcan race." 

"Yeah, well, I take all of my patients very seriously, especially when they go into some kind of heat every couple of years." Bones grumbles, hooking an IV and blood bag into Jim's arm. By this point, the doctor has nearly twenty bottles of blood collected, enough that would kill a normal man three times over. But not Khan. "Look, I already have one friend that's died today, I really don't need another." He tallys the bottles and makes a mental note as Spock gapes at him.

"What. . . are you suggesting I do, doctor? If you know about the Pon Farr, you know that there is nothing that can be done about it, save mating or a ritualistic fight to the death. I would not wish this upon Lieutenant Uhura. There is no one that I can fight who could keep my rage assuaged long enough for the Pon Farr to subside. I have no options." Spock let the logic of his truth wash over himself like a cooling salve. It felt good to be rational with the constant barrage of wrathful thoughts in his mind.

The doctor looked up at him, one corner of his mouth wryly curled upwards, as he finished filling one more vial with Khan's blood. "Really Spock? Can't think of anyone you want to beat the snot out of? Because I think the logical answer is right under your nose." He then looked down, features turning to a grimace.

Spock followed the doctor's gaze to the criminal restrained on the cot.

It was highly illogical. Highly irrational.

The buzzing in his head became louder, adamant and bloodthirsty.

. . . It just might work.


	2. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"What is wrong with you?" Khan croaks out, keeping up pretenses, but doesn't need to lick his lips anymore, saliva thick in his mouth._
> 
> _Spock stares intensely at him, breathing labored, before rasping out two words. "Pon. . . Farr."_

"Computer: Quarantine mode, jurisdiction 745.1348. No one is to enter or leave this room until my vitals reflect the same conditions as of my last physical in perfect standing health. No recordings or audio, affidavit C193.4." The voice invades his head as he starts to come to, an unwelcome feeling that something is terribly amiss with his being, and Khan realizes that he feels weak. It will subside in time, any hurt always does, he just has to endure. Still, he is foggy as he tries to make out what the command is actually for.

He is in a pristine bedroom, everything in shades of white and blue, and already he starts calculating his escape as that somber voice cuts through his groggy brain like a lance. "I see you are awake. There is no need to try and formulate your escape, Mr. Singh. This room is on maximum quarantine and nothing short of a meteor is going to breach it until I give the order."

Khan snarls under his breath, arching fingertips to try and get his blood flowing. How is he so damn weak? It feels as if he has just himself woken out of cryosleep. He tries to formulate words but his mouth is dry, and new sensations start to come to him. He is stomach down on the floor, cheek digging into the plush carpet at the foot of the bed. Limbs on pins and needles, blood circulating sluggishly. One stormy blue pupil scans the room and finally finds the source of the voice. Spock. That damn Vulcan, standing at attention in front of him, fists clasped behind his back. Again, he tries to clear his throat, but it is so dry, and his genetics haven't kicked in to start the flow of saliva in his mouth.

"Forgive me if I do not offer you a cup of water. We haven't time for courtesies. Very soon, I shall be killing you." Spock states matter of factly, devoid of all emotion, wait, no, his voice is haggard, pupils dilated and posture aggressive. Whatever has happened with the Vulcan since their fight through San Francisco, the other man has gotten much, much worse. The super human mentally notes everything that he can about the Vulcan's weaknesses, stance, even smell, and gives slight pause.

Spock smells. . . aroused. Musky and trembling with some need that needs to be met. Perhaps. . . this can be used to his advantage. He licks his lips, trying to coat them enough to form words. "Wh. . what. . . is this. . . about?" He croaks, cursing everyone on this ship for this display of his weakness. When he gets out, he will slaughter them all. But he will rip Spock's head off first and show them all their fate in the Vulcan's glassy eyes.

"You will never get out of here Khan, so there is no use in plotting anything. I will wait until you can fight, and then you will be destroyed." He can tell there is something else behind the Vulcan's voice, some unspoken thing troubling him that he will not admit to. That is the thing that will be his undoing. Khan just has to find it and exploit it. He isn't worried. It is his specialty.

Slowly feeling comes back to his limbs to the point that he knows he is rapidly approaching one hundred percent, and he grins inwardly. The Vulcan will never know what hits him when he finally rises to the challenge that has been set for him. Minutes pass, and it seems that the commander is having slight difficulty breathing, sweat starting to bead on his brow despite the temperature control in the room being at a normal seventy three degrees.

"What is wrong with you?" Khan croaks out, keeping up pretenses, but doesn't need to lick his lips anymore, saliva thick in his mouth. 

Spock stares intensely at him, breathing labored, before rasping out two words. "Pon. . . Farr."

The meaning of the words escapes him, but it is no matter. Vulcan ways are foreign to the super human and therefore unimportant. Let the Vulcan gasp for air, he would be doing it soon enough with his throat crushed beneath the heel of his boot. Soon he will strike this pointy eared bastard who decimated his crew, the only people he cared about in the world. 

Subtly, Spock's stance shifts slightly, more menacing and dangerous, as if he can feel the attack about to come. Khan doesn't think that it will matter all that much, the Vulcan's little girlfriend isn't here to stun him with a phaser upwards of ten times. Perhaps she will be the first that he will destroy. Maybe he'll keep Spock alive long enough to see the light fade from her eyes. 

"Soon. . . I will not. . . be able. . . to speak," the other man states, words drug out and almost pained. "So I will. . . tell you. . . this. Your crew. . . is alive." As soon as the words leave the Vulcan's mouth, Khan cannot contain himself and is on his feet, inhumanly fast, punching into. . .

. . . thin air. He whirls, only to meet a right hook from Spock, strong enough to stagger him several feet. The Vulcan eyes him, control slipping and for the first time, he can now see madness in Spock's eyes. Khan's brow furrows. Of course, the Vulcan would say anything to throw him off guard. . . wait. No, he wouldn't, Vulcans do not lie. "How?" He spat the word, fury and pain lacing his voice. The thought that his seventy two most important reasons for living might still be alive. . .

The corner of Spock's mouth uncharacteristically twitches up. "Tricked. . . you."

Khan barks out a short laugh. "If you tricked me, where are they then?" If the Vulcan's words are true, he will kill the man immediately and rescue them. Then nothing will stop between him and the revenge upon all of humanity that he so desperately deserves.

But Spock just smiles savagely, face spiraling deeper and deeper into something akin to insanity. ". . . safe. . . . they. . . will always. . . sleep."

The super human pulls himself to his full height, calculating the right place to land the first blow. He is so focused that he almost doesn't see the other man move to strike, an inhumanly fast blow to the ribs. Were he a normal human, Khan would be on the ground, but he has fought with broken ribs before. He lands a punch on Spock's jaw, which is returned in kind with one, two, three punches laced with improbable speed. The super human's head is reeling, and he can barely think long enough to sweep the Vulcan's feet from under him and start stomping on his chest. The Vulcan cries out, an animal snarl, and grabs Khan's foot by the boot, twisting for all that he's worth until he hears a loud grinding pop. The taller man howls with rage, toppling on top of him until the two are rolling around on the ground, fighting for supremacy. Khan grabs the Vulcan by the bangs and starts to slam his head into the floor, while the Vulcan claws at his throat gripping his windpipe with deadly accuracy.

Suddenly he is flipped on his back, hands fully enclosed on his throat, and to his surprise, he can't draw breath. Struggling like a fish on a hook, he tries to maneuver away punching and raking at the other man for all he is worth, to no avail, his head starts to swim and colors explode in the corners of his retina, and Spock looks manic, so damn pleased with himself. So different from the composed half breed he had seen before.

In one last desperate measure, he slams his fist into the chest of the other man, right over the heart, in hopes that the impact might stop it and simulate a heart attack, but to no avail. Spock still keeps staring down at him with wicked glee, absorbed in the task of murder.

That is when Khan feels it. The pressure of Spock's arousal grinding into his leg. Whatever this Pon Farr is, it literally has driven the other man insane. He can feel his vision growing black, and realizes he has run out of options. 

With the last fading bits of his strength, he reaches down and fondles the Vulcan's cock through the fabric of his Starfleet issued pants.

Spock pauses, staring down at the super human, grip loosening for a split second. He can see the wheels in that head turning, but unfortunately no one seems to be home. The animal above him tilts his head, rage quelling slightly, and observes Khan with rapt eyes, drinking in every movement. It isn't long until he is rubbing himself into Khan's hand, and the super human almost laughs at the disgusting and primitive display that the Vulcan is giving him. Such a lowly dog, that he can't even control his basest urges. . .

Khan sees stars, realizing a second too late that Spock has slammed his forehead into the other mans. The last thing he sees before going unconscious is the Vulcan's face, smeared in green and red blood, proudly fixed over him, sinister and dominant. Then, all is black.


	3. Delusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An internal struggle.

The Vulcan stares at the augment, fingers digging into his windpipe. Khan is struggling, wriggling like an animal caught in a trap. Spock's eyes flicker, a darkness behind them that is unnoticeable to the human eye.

**Kill. Him. Kill him NOW.** A dark voice purrs. It feels so good, rubbing against his brain, like fox fur against his bare skin. 

Spock tries desperately to hold on to his sanity, but the flesh under his fingers feels so warm, so good. _No, I can't. Despite everything, I can't._

**You were willing enough before.** The voice chides, silky and smooth. His fingers tighten around that throat, gripping like a vice.

_It's not my fault. You're affecting me._ Spock reasons, but he can feel his edge on reality slipping. He can feel the throat underneath his fingers constricting as the super human scrabbles for any sort of purchase against the Vulcan. 

The voice/thought chuckles. **I am you. You're affecting yourself. And you want him to die.**

_He should pay for his crimes._ Spock retorts, and part of him digs his fingers in more. This could be a perfect way to pay- Spock has to take a breath to rip himself from that thought.

**His crimes are too many. Think of all of the people he killed. Of all the pain he has caused.** The darkness murmurs, sweet and seductive.

Still, he resists. _I know what he has done. Still, a trial would be-_

A short laugh comes from the recesses of his mind. **Logical? This man gunned down your ship. Tried to destroy you all. Think of them.**

Spock pursed his lips, focused on the calculating gaze of Khan. _They live._

**Think. Of. KIRK.**

RED. REDREDREDREDRED 

Everything is awash in crimson. With renewed fervor, he clenches his fists ever tighter around the augment's throat, and then with surprise, feels the man beneath him fondle him through his clothing. Spock hadn't realized his arousal until he felt that electric touch, and paused, staring down at the man. Who had tried to destroy everything that he held dear. Some sick part snapped inside himself, and he rutted against that hand for a brief second, before noticing the malice in Khan's eyes.

A trick.

Stars dance briefly in his mind as he slams his head into the other mans, feeling satisfaction that the other finally seems to be worn down, eyelids fluttering shut. An evil grin graces the Vulcan's lips. The windpipe underneath his fingers convulses one last time, still. It is only then that Spock's vision fades from scarlet to normal colors.

_. . . no. . ._

**Yes. You did it. And you enjoyed it.** The voice sings, clouding his mind like smoke.

Silence. Spock cannot even fathom a response.

**You are being overly dramatic.** He is chided.

Spock is still breathing heavily, clothes mussed and hair askew. _. . . why are you still here?_

Laughter peals in his brain. **You think I am appeased? He's not even dead.**

_His body is still._ The Vulcan tries to reason, but the darkness inside him tsks frustration.

**Still or not, his heart still beats. He gets stronger with every second.**

_Then why are you not. . ._ Confusion worms through Spock's mind.

**Killing him? But I thought you didn't want to.** The voice is almost coquettish.

_I don't. But I want out of this room. I want you gone. So be done with it. Let me come back to my senses._ The Vulcan demands.

The darkness sighs. **But the fun has just started. The Plak Tow demands to be satiated.**

_So you will toy with him like a cat with a mouse. Disgusting._ Repulsion at the thing in his mind is evident, but the darkness just basks in it, rolling around like a cat in a sunny patch of grass. 

**No, nature. Just like the animals. Mate. Fuck. Kill. Surely you can wrap your brain around that.** It purrs.

Spock blanches. _Vulgar. The whole act is. . ._ Surely it doesn't want. . .

**A part of your physiology. Get used to the thought. It's only a shame that Nyota isn't here.** The voice warps memories, Nyota, delicate and strong, fierce and beautiful, wearing nothing but a thin sheen of sweat, face screwed in pleasure-

Spock jerks away and snarls. _Don't you dare think of her that way!_

**If not her, then your beloved Captain.** The voice chuckles, conjuring images of Kirk, naked, heated in the throes of passion, pupils blown and cock rigid, taking him in-

The Vulcan swallows, closing his eyes against the barrage of erotic imagery. _You're making up lies now._

**Oh Spock, we are Vulcan. We do not lie.** Suddenly, he is not in control of his hands anymore. They ghost over Khan's legs, feeling the strong musculature. The Vulcan tries with all of his might to regain composure, but his actions are not his own anymore. **I know what you need, Spock. And we will take it.** His fingertips stroke ever higher, to the augments crotch, and squeeze appreciatively at Khan's cock. Spock feels queasy, overheated, and very, very hard.

_I do not want-_

**You do. He is formidable. He will prove a strong mate.**

_NO!_ Despite his efforts, his fingers start to knead the flesh encompassed by those too tight Starfleet issued denims, and he can feel Khan stiffening beneath his efforts. Sanity starts to slip even farther, his breath coming rapidly, and the scent of the other man overwhelming. _. . . no. . . ._

Even his rational part sounds weak. 

**Oh yes, Spock. The Plak Tow must be satisfied. _I_ must be satisfied.** With inhuman strength, the Vulcan rips the augments pants at the waist, exposing creamy flesh and Khan's thick, swelling manhood. His earlier trepidation not withstanding, Spock's fingers quickly divest himself of his own clothing and the other man's, fabric torn to shreds under the sheer brute force of Spock's bare hands. 

Spock's last rational thought is an apology to Uhura.

The darkness inside of him chuckles, eyes inky black, hands on Khan's bare thighs. "I will be. . . satiated."


	4. Remedy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck it. Fight it. It's all the same.

For the second time, Khan starts to flutter back to consciousness, and can feel the corner of his mouth start to tug into a grin. Or a grimace. It is hard to tell through the wave of pain he is riding. It is nothing compared to the sharp stabbing pain in his shoulder. His eyes flit open, and he can see the Vulcan over him, head buried in his shoulder. Confusion is foggy in his head. Is the other man. . . marking him? Weakly, he raises his hand to push Spock from him when he feels it. Cool air exposing his genitals. Something hard and fleshy probing the pucker of his anus. Snarling, Khan pushes as hard as he can, but Spock clamps his mouth on tight, and Khan can feel the blood running down his chest. He looks down, and Spock's dark eyes meet his, mad, lustful, cold. Like glittering obsidian, with an inner red heat.

"Get. OFF." Khan growls, slamming a first into the side of the Vulcan's head. Spock is ripped off with a howl, but not before taking a small chunk of the augment's skin with him. Blood drips in crimson rivulets down the commanders chin, and he spits the piece of flesh out. With inhuman speed, he is on Khan again, slamming him brutally back into the carpeted floor, tearing at the rest of his clothes. Khan fights with everything he has, and manages to rake his fingernails across the Vulcan's cheek, and green blood starts to bead along the marks. Spock rams a fist into the augments solar plexus, and Khan starts to gasp for air.

It is unbelievable, the power that the Vulcan has been holding back. The augment knows that even in their fight in San Francisco, Spock was nowhere near this strong. He kicks at the Vulcan and manages to send him flying, but not before the Vulcan rips the rest of his shirt from him, with hands that had been fisted in the already torn fabric. Khan's perfect chest is covered with purplish blossoms of bruises, that are slowly healing themselves. But it is too slow. What did those fucking humans do to him? He starts to rise, only to have Spock tackle him again, and they are rolling across the floor, struggling with each other.

Their close proximity ensures that Khan can feel the heat and weight of the other man's erection, and is irritated that his own matches it. It has been much too long since he has had willingly taken a bed partner. No one has simply been good enough. But this show of power, it is attractive, despite the Vulcan's sickening half blood. Stars kaleidoscope behind his eyes as his head cracks into the wall, and he can feel blood flowing into his eyes. Spock pauses, only to take an experimental lick. Khan groans, enraged, but his hands wont move as fast as he would like. The Vulcan slicks fingers through his blood, to fist a hand in his hair, pulling back hard. Khan screams his rage, and Spock sinks his teeth into the augment's neck. Khan flutters on the edge of lucidity, when he feels that cock again at his ass. He grits his teeth. As soon as the Vulcan is spent, he will tear him apart, piece by piece, he will-

A strangled noise comes out of the super human's mouth as Spock rips inside of him, balls flush to his ass cheeks. Khan is convulsing around him, ass raw and torn from the intrusion, but Spock doesn't give him a minute of respite. He is slamming into him, brutally, over and over, and the augment can barely catch his breath. His hands scrabble for purchase against the onslaught, but the other man's cock repeatedly rubs at his prostate and the feeling is one that he cannot drown out. It burns so good, that the augments only way of fighting is to clench tighter, and grind back harder. Spock growls his approval, rutting hard into the other man. His head pulls up eyes burning into Khans, and the augment darts forward to catch the Vulcan's lips between his own, clamping down and tearing. Green blood flows over his lips, mingling with Khan's own spit. The taste is musky, intoxicating. Khan becomes harder. 

Spock nips back at him, and crashes his mouth fully into his, tongues battling in a maniacal frenzy at the tempo of their fucking reaches a crescendo. Khan's eyes, as clear as a tropical ocean, roll back in his head, losing himself to sensation. Just when he thinks he will come, the Vulcan places a hand to the side of his face, and his world crashes apart.

_He is inside him, everywhere, oh god, how can the Vulcan be in here-_

The floodgates of memory are unbarred, slipping through his fingers like smoke. Desperately, Khan tries to quell them, tries to-

_Marcus leers over him, cock spent and unremarkable. "You are nothing. You are just a piece of shit that someone managed to give a brain. You ever think of crossing me, I will rip your crew apart, cut them limb from limb and see if they regenerate. If they do, I'll cut them into tiny fucking pieces and feed them to dogs, d'you understand me, Harrison?"_

_Khan lets no expression touch his face, but he feels rage quivering inside of him. Seventy two reasons to swallow his pride. Seventy two reasons to be dominated. Marcus slaps him, but his face barely stings. "I said do you-"_

_Spock is behind the man, and snaps his neck easily with his hands. Marcus' body falls to the floor like a puppet whose strings have been severed. The augment stares up at him, confusion plain on his face. The Vulcan holds a hand down to help the other man up._

_**"No one will ever touch you like that again. I will not allow it."** The commander states, and Khan starts to laugh._

_"What do you think you're going to be able-" The augment starts, but the scene changes again. He is on the S.S. Botany Bay, helping the last of his people into cryosleep. The superhuman crew for the most part has been relaxed, though the few children among them have feared it. He settles by the side of one tube, holding a little girl named Adhira. He has promised her that when they all wake up, they will never be apart again. Her face was set, resolved, but fat tears had threatened to spill from her eyes. Khan had held her in his arms, rocking her until she fell asleep naturally, before setting her into the tube and setting the sleep parameters. She had no mother, no father, like every other augment on the ship. All they had was each other._

_Khan surveyed the seventy two most precious things to him, standing next to his open cryotube. He doesn't know when they will wake. He doesn't know when they will see each other again, or if he can even keep his promises. Movement out of the corner of his eye jerks his head up, and the Vulcan is walking through the rows of tubes, examining the faces sleeping. Khan's heart leaps, angry and protective, but Spock just looks up at him calmly._

_**"They are all alive. If you could reform, you might be able to see them again. If they were not as bloodthirsty as you."** His hand strokes along the glass of the little girl's tube, and with a snarl, the superhuman leaps at him-_

_Only to slam into the middle of a war zone. Explosions rock the ground. His eyes narrowed, scanning the vegetation, noting the castle in the distance. Neuschwanstein. Home of that cocky German augment Mathias and his damn lackeys that kept encroaching on his territory. He would show the bastard. Show them all. No one crossed Khan Noonien Singh and lived to tell it._

_His men awaited his orders behind him, but among them, he could see Spock, cold, calculating, assessing. Angrily, he barked his instructions to his men, and they made their way to the castle, leaving him and the Vulcan facing each other in the crisp air._

_"How are you doing this?" The Vulcan quirks an eyebrow at him as if he doesn't know what he is talking about. "How are you in my mind?"_

_**"How many of your men die on this raid?"** Spock asks calmly, and Khan grits his teeth. _

_"One hundred fifteen."_

_**"You care so much for the people in the cryotubes, but why not these men and women?"** _

_Khan gnashes his teeth hatefully, hands fisting at his side._

_**"Well?"** _

_"My empire was in danger."_

_**"So you would sacrifice them for your happiness?** _

_"Yes."_

_**"But now, your people. In the cryotubes. Would you sacrifice them? For your happiness?"** _

_Khan closes his eyes. ". . . no."_

_**"Are they your happiness?"** _

_"I do not know."_

_**"Because you have never been happy."** _

_The augment opens his eyes, ready to argue, but Spock's words are true. There have been times, ruling his people and crushing the opposition under his boot heels in which he thought that he might have been happy. Between lovers thighs and with a gun in his hand and the world at his feet. But in all of his palaces in all of his land and all the people, every day since his inception, there has been nothing but a cold loneliness permeating his being. Ever since he first-_

_Darkness. His eyes blink open slowly, taking in the sights and the sounds. There is a heavy weight on top of him, one that he cannot push off. His hands look smaller, younger, and he groans internally. Will the Vulcan let no part of his memories be? His thighs are slick with semen, and the form on top of him stirs, whiskey brown eyes foggy with intoxication._

_"Are you fine, Khan?" The older man murmurs, and the boy, Khan, swallows the bile that is threatening to rise._

_"Yes."_

_The old man nuzzles his hair. "How did it feel?"_

_Khan grimaces. "Adequate."_

_The doctor's face lights with fury, and backhands him. Though a teenager, he is still an augment, and there is little pain in an old man's strike. Khan scrabbles off the medical cot clumsily falling to the floor in his hurry to get away from the man raining blows upon him. They do not hurt, but this is the game that the doctor expects him to play, to show subservience and weakness. It is either that or he will be fitted with a shock collar, as others have. Better to let the old fool think that he has the upper hand. The other man is relentless, striking until he bleeds and bruises coat his young frame. It happened many times. Many times before something in Khan broke, making him realize that he was faster, he was stronger, he was BETTER than any human. That he deserved better._

_He grimaces in disgust, as the old man comes at him again, dick half hard and alcohol thick breath poisoning the air, until a hand reaches around to pressure points on the man's collarbone and neck, and the doctor slumps to the ground. Spock steps around the fallen body, and reaches out a hand to the boy._

_**"Humans have not been kind to you. I can see that."** _

_"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? They are a waste. Just like half of you is." Khan spits, and Spock looks thoughtful for a moment. Still, he holds his hand out, and gritting his teeth, the augment reaches for it-_

_The planet is a barren wasteland. Khan doesn't recognize the desert he is currently in. He looks around, but Spock is nowhere. He can hear soft voices in the distance, and pads that way. Voices get stronger as he makes his way around a rock formation._

_There are three boys staring at something on the ground. If not for the perfect Vulcan set of their features, he would think that they were worried._

_"We should leave."_

_"And if he talks?"_

_"He won't. I am sure he would rather die than tell anyone."_

_"But if anyone asks him-"_

_"He will omit anything that sounds incriminating!" The ringleader snaps, and the other two quiet. "Think logically, if this had happened to you, would you want to admit to it?" Both boys shake their heads, and the leader looks back at the ground. "You would be wise to lay here and die. Just lay here and let the sun do the rest."_

_He turns and leaves, and the other two follow him like trained spaniels. Khan inches closer to see a lanky form huddled on the ground, bloodied and coated in other bodily fluids. It is quivering uncontrollably, becoming more severe the farther the footsteps of the boys recede. When he is only a few feet away, the boy's head raises, a young Spock's chocolate eyes boring into his own._

_**"My mother told me that the day I was born, I was the biggest gift she had ever received. I never believed her. My entire life, other Vulcans told me that I was not good enough. That I was a mongrel. That she was a whore. That I was inadequate, a monster, a freak. Because I shared human traits. I am sure that you have been called similar names. By the doctor who created you. But the humans you trampled to rule over. By Marcus. Even perhaps by the men you found expendable. You an I are more alike than you would wish to consider."** The Vulcan pushes to his feet, body covered in cuts, and bruises, blood and semen. _

_Khan swallows, stepping back, suddenly fearful. Not that he would show it, but there is a pain creeping into his chest, searing him from the inside out. "What are you doing to me?"_

_Spock cocks his head to the side. **"You are afraid of being weak. Of feeling. Of not being in control. Those are the emotions that have carved you into the man that you are today. Molded you into a tight fisted ruler. A desperate man willing to suffer for his crew. A vengeful spirit who would destroy anyone that did not fear the sound of your own name. But I am not afraid of you. You and I share the same pain. Whether you would like to admit it or not."** The Vulcan boy holds out his hand, and his determination is so bright and shining, that Khan cannot help but reach out awkwardly. As soon as their hands touch, he feels weightless, buoyant in a cloud of emotion free of turmoil and anger. Spock wraps around him, crooning words in Vulcan that he cannot understand. They kiss, and it is gentle this time._

Khan is brought back to his own body, and the Vulcan is staring down at him. The fire has faded slightly from his eyes, but they are still wild with need. The augment is dazed, but heady with his own need. He has never felt so. . . free before. Tentatively, he brushes his lips against Spock's and the other man kisses back softly, rocking into him gently. Khan has never experienced such a sensation before. Such caring. There is still an undercurrent of mistrust and rage, sorrow and pride, but the two men ride the crest of a peaking wave until they both climax, reveling in the feel of each others bodies before falling unconscious, still connected, physically and emotionally.


	5. Allergic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awakenings.

Everything feels foggy, like someone has wrapped a blanket around his entire head. It isn't hard to breathe, or painful, just numb. Spock groans and his eyelids flutter open, only to have him wince at the light in the room. Even with the ambiance at thirty percent, somehow everything seems so piercing. He tries to reposition himself, only to wince in slight pain, it seems his groin is-

The Vulcan's eyes fly open, the blanket of cozy warmth around him ripped away in a moment of horrified clarity. His room is in shambles. There are holes in the walls, decorations and sheets on the floor. There is a distinct odor of male musk and ejaculate in the room. And his groin, his cock. . .

He swallows, and stares down at the man underneath him, groaning internally. His half hard cock is still firmly seated in the augment, held vice like by the muscles of the other man's taut body. Wincing, he pulls free with a pop, severing their connection, but. . . but he can still feel the other man. Groggily, the Vulcan gets to his feet, making his way to the console next to the door, not caring for the moment that he is still nude. Quickly, he keys in information and grimaces at the stardate, thirty six hours from when he and Khan entered his bedroom. His stomach growls audibly, but he pushes the feeling aside. Spock feels filthy, covered in cum and sweat and saliva, and chances a look back at the other man. 

He hadn't killed him. The Vulcan thought for sure that going into this, his feral side would be triggered by the augment, and that he would stop at nothing to destroy the man that had taken Jim from him. And yet. . .

There was something new, in the back of his mind, small and tenuous, but humming with power. A thread, electric and blue, but humming with a dark energy. A completely sexual energy. Spock swallows.

A mate bond. 

The Vulcan doesn't even care to clothe himself, he sits in his desk chair and stares dully at the augment on the floor. He can remember bits and pieces of the mating, fragments of Khan's past, and even the fact that he had shown one of the weakest moments of his childhood to the augment. That they had copulated. Over and over and over.

A part of him feels sick, feels shamed. He is with Nyota. They are a couple, even if their intimacies in several years had never made it as far as his own with Khan, another fact that he wonders at. There is no way that he can stay with the woman now. Even. . . even Jim. Spock sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as if a headache might be coming on. There were so many unresolved, unspoken feelings that have to do with the captain. Things that due to his relationship with Uhura he would have never acted on, but there was an unspoken bond, nonetheless. 

That was all gone now. He tentatively feels the cord in his mind, stroking along it in curiosity. Khan sighs contentedly in his sleep, a soft look of peace on his features. Spock can only stare. The man is so immaculate, even unkempt, that he doesn't even seem real. But then, he supposes, that was a part of his creation, being the best at everything. 

After minutes of worrying over whether he should let the other man out of his sight, the Vulcan makes his way to the bathroom. First he will clean himself, then restrain the augment, then-

He gasps when he catches sight of himself in the mirror. There is not an inch of his body save his face, that is not covered in bites and hickeys. Each one a testament to the last thirty six hours, and to the bond they now share. He experimentally places a finger to one of the bloody green love bites and winces, but feels a jolt of passion straight to his cock. The feeling travels down the thread of energy that is his and Khan's bond, and he can hear the other man moan deliciously in the other room.

Spock is rooted in place, unsure it he should cry or go to the other man.

He has never felt more alone, more un-Vulcan in his life. There is no one who can help him. He is bonded to a criminal, someone who murdered Starfleet officers and civilians. Who killed Christopher Pike. Who tried to destroy the Enterprise and caused Jim to die. Someone who will be put to death as soon as they get back in contact with Starfleet, and the amount of pain associated with that just might be enough to make him go mad. Emotions war on the Vulcan's face, and for a moment, he hates his reflection so badly, hates his half blood and hates the fact that Pon Farr even hit him at all. The resigned and fearful look on his face makes him wish he could curl up in a corner and disappear. 

He loathes that reflection. 

Before he knows it, the mirror is shattered and his fist is bloody. Spock sinks to the floor, staring dully at the shards of glass sticking out of his hand, cursing his Vulcan heritage. Cursing the logic that has led him to ruin.


	6. Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease_

Khan awakes with a start. Something is not right. Blearily he opens his eyes, groaning internally at the feeling of his limbs bent at odd angles in his rest as if he had just passed out. Tentatively he flexes his fingers, the tingle of blood flow coursing through them to the tips. It never takes him long to recover, but even so, he feels exhausted, more than he ever has. But that could also be the culmination of the last several days. It is hard to believe that London was only a few mornings ago.

He licks his lips, feeling parched, and scans the room. The disarray is something that he can remember clearly. Most of the mess was made by the fight before. . . he and the Vulcan had started fucking. The corner of the augment's mouth tugs up sardonically. What a strange turn that the brawl had taken. Furious blows to rutting in a matter of moments. Not to mention the Vulcan being in his mind. . . Khan shivers. 

Strange indeed.

He pushes himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly at the pain coming from his ass, and the many bruises and bites all over his body. They are healing before his eyes, but slower. He must eat soon, that much is clear. After all, anyone could only go so long without nourishment. Still, there is so much to do before he can escape.

Khan has seen a glimpse of the other man's mind, barriers down. He knows it has been the same for Spock, that he had been bared down to the core for the other man due to this Pon Farr business, but he has seen the most important secret that the Vulcan has been keeping.

His crew is alive.

He can hardly believe his good fortune. A part of him is manic with glee, so ecstatic that his crew is alive that he doesn't care about anything else, just wants to retrieve them and escape, lick his wounds and come back to destroy Starfleet another day. But another part of him, small and chiding from the back of his mind, tells him that he would have killed Spock's people were the situation different. That Spock is the better man. 

Grimacing, he rises to his feet, disgusted by the come and sweat covering his body. He wonders briefly where the Vulcan has gone-

And gasps. He can feel him, can feel an energy between the two that is strong and somewhat tragic. The connection sings with tension, and he knows that something with the other man is wrong, very very wrong. Emotion is crackling through the other man with the force of a hurricane, rage and sadness, regret and yearning. It sets Khan on edge. All of these emotions center around him. He can feel that through this thing. . .

Stumbling to the chest of drawers, he quickly pulls one open, looking for clothing. He will subdue the other man, and escape. He will kill everyone on this ship-

The augment gasps, sorrow wracking his entire being at the thought. It doesn't take much for him to realize that is Spock's pain at the thought. He grits his teeth, and finds himself stopping in his search to look towards the bathroom. He doesn't owe the Vulcan anything. If anything, Spock owed him.

But then, his crew is alive and safe. If satiating the Pon Farr was the one thing that could repay that, then it was not so bad a trade.

Before he knows it, his feet are padding to the bathroom. Khan opens the bathroom door and inhales sharply at the scent of blood. The Vulcan is sitting against the wall, knees to his chest, and green blood is everywhere. He can see shrapnels of glass embedded in one of Spock's fists, and the other man is staring dully at the floor, breathing shallowly in some semi-meditative state. The augment frowns, and grabs a towel from one of the racks on the wall. He carefully crouches on the ground, avoiding other pieces of glass, though they will not harm him in any significant way. Slowly, he starts to pull the pieces from the other mans fist, starting with the largest and most visible pieces.

Spock doesn't even look as if he notices, but through the bond. . . or whatever it is, Khan can feel the other man's confusion that the augment is doing something to help him. Once he has pulled all of the pieces that he can see from the injury, he moistens the towel and starts to wipe the blood away. They are both filthy, blood and come and saliva coating their bodies. As much as Khan does not relish the thought of being in close proximity with the other man, he cannot help but consider cleaning them. 

Cannot help but want to touch the other man.

Growling under his breath, Khan rips apart another towel into strips, wrapping it around the Vulcan's injuries. It wouldn't do for the man to bleed out, then he would never be free. He is slightly taken aback when he sees the Vulcan staring intently at him with eyes like glittering obsidian. His face is neutral, but the augment can tell through the thread that connects them now that while he may seem unaffected on the surface, that mask of composure hides deep rooted pain and confusion.

"You are not as unemotional as I thought." Khan states with a slight edge of malice. The Vulcan barely moves a muscle, just staring up at the augment without blinking. 

"And you are not as bloodthirsty as I once believed." Spock returns, and Khan chuckles, low and throaty and dangerous.

"I would not underestimate me if I were you."

Spock frowns slightly, as if Khan has said something to completely insult his intelligence. "To do that would be completely illogical."

They stare at each other a moment, naked physically and emotionally. Khan glances at the Vulcan's hand. "You're going to need that looked at."

"I know." The words are even, but it feels like the Vulcan doesn't care about the injury at all. Through the thread connecting him, he can tell that the other man is starting to feel something akin to panic. It makes the augment feel powerful to have elicited such a response in Spock. . . but at the same time makes him feel indescribably awful. 

He tucks that thought in the back of his head, and nonchalantly says, "Such an emotional outburst."

Spock grits his teeth, eyes downcast. "I am still in the last throes of the blood fever. It will cause me to be slightly. . . off."

"Emotional." Khan challenges.

The Vulcan grimaces, but nods. "Yes. Unfortunately."

Tension runs up the line connecting them, causing Khan to shiver slightly. "What is that? The thing connecting us?"

"It is our mate bond." Obsidian eyes meet his again, and he can feel the pain pulsating off of the other man, throbbing through their connection. It makes him feel distraught, even though in all reality he owes the Vulcan no feeling whatsoever. Definitely not anything that would be considered to be akin to some mental connection through mating.

Khan raises an eyebrow. "Mate. . . bond?" Mentally he strokes along the thread of power, and it sends a shiver down both men's spines. It feels so good, better than it logically should, for two people that over the last several days have been trying to kill each other. 

The Vulcan shuts his eyes tightly. "Yes. We are. . . connected now."

"And what does that entail, exactly?"

"For my people, a mate bond generally means joining with the one you will be with for the rest of your lives. You will be able to share thoughts with each other, even feelings if the two are that inclined to share them. It is a deeper sense of understanding between the two involved. It is usually a by product of Pon Farr. When two are joined by the physical intimacies of intercourse, it makes the bond stronger."

"So you are telling me that this bond only becomes stronger the more that we have sex?" Khan is amused at the thought. . . and also the possibilities. 

Spock stares at him for a long time, eyes wary. "That would be correct, Mr. Singh."

The augment lets out a dark chuckle. "Please, call me Khan. I do believe we are on a first name basis after what we have done." Khan replies silkily. He can tell that the Vulcan is not amused, as he rises shakily to his feet, and enters the shower. The augment feels along the cord connecting them, noting that Spock has not once reached out to feel the connection for himself. Spock turns the shower on bypassing the sonic for a rare water flow. 

Khan is slightly irritated that the Vulcan is ignoring him, and stands, bypassing the broken glass on the floor to stand at the shower door. Already, steam is starting to fill the bathroom. The augment barely pauses before stepping into the shower alongside the other man. Spock stiffens beside him, but there is enough standing room in the shower for the both of them. Khan fills his hand with soap from a dispenser on the wall and starts to lather Spock's back.

"What are you doing?" The other man croaks out, and Khan just smiles.

"You are quite dirty, Mr. Spock. It looks like you can use a hand." His fingers knead into the flesh, massaging as they work the soap into the skin, washing the grime away. The Vulcan relaxes slightly under his hands, and through the bond, the augment can feel for the first time, the slight ease of tension from the other man. It is also the perfect opportunity for him to inspect the body of the one that he has been otherwise too busy to. Spock's back is broad and slightly muscular, spine dipping pleasingly down into perfectly round ass. He allows his hands to dip lower, kneading the cheeks, one in each hand. Spock lets out a guttural noise, and the augment grins. He can feel pleasure singing down the connection, laced with no small amount of trepidation. 

"Khan-" Spock's voice catches in his throat, and Khan grins, licking and sucking at the Vulcan's neck, tasting clean skin and water. He waits only a moment before wrapping his hand around to the other man's dick. "What are you-"

"We are bonded now. Should I not care to please my mate?" The augment purrs, lathing his tongue against Spock's neck before biting down, to mark him. Spock gasps, and there is a jolt down the thread of energy, and the other man's cock jerks, as his ass bounces back to grind into Khan's cock. The augment growls appreciatively at the contact.

"You have no intention of becoming my mate, unless it is for personal gain." Spock raggedly chokes out, and Khan can feel the Vulcan slipping through the bond. It is hard to believe that a man so stoic can actually have so much emotional turmoil bubbling just under the surface. He pumps the cock in his hand rhythmically and lazily rubs his own erection against the cleft of Spock's ass. 

"That may be true. But then, it is your own fault. You have no one to blame for this situation but yourself." He can feel shame welling up in the other man, even as his passion begins to rise. The thread between them sings with need, for their connection to grow stronger. There is something hypnotic and addictive about it, and for a brief moment, Khan actually considers that being mate bonded to Spock might not be such a bad thing. Even though they have been at each others throats, there is an undeniable attraction, both to the physical and intellectual sides of the other man. 

Not to mention that the man did keep his crew alive. The most kindness that Khan has ever received since being woken, if not in his entire life.

He feels a thought down the connection between them, unspoken, but strong. I would never take a life willingly, much less 72. You were right in my assumptions that I could not even break bone. Spock caresses the bond, lightheaded and desperate for the connection. Khan's hand that is still on the Vulcan's ass probes between for the slight puckered orifice between, stroking softly. Spock bucks, hole trembling against the augment's fingertip. He can sense a touch of worry from Spock, intermingled with a desperate need.

Khan can recognize it in himself, from weaker days. Despite the paths that both men have chosen, there is something very similar in the events that have molded them. Being treated inferior, rising above their oppressors, striving for the best for themselves. Caring for their respective crews. Caring for-

Spock gasps as Khan pushes a finger inside, twitching uncomfortably against the invasive digit. The little bit of soap on the augment's hand does little to act as a lubricant, but the Vulcan hisses in something akin to pleasure at the burn. For a moment, his mental walls drop, and Khan smirks in surprise, although, he was mostly sure of the secret.

"You love the captain." Khan purrs in his ear. Spock goes still, and then struggles slightly, but Khan worms his finger in deeper to the tight, hot heat. Spock cries out, bucking against that finger as it hits his prostate in a rapid succession. Spock's ass spasms beautifully around his finger, and Khan cannot help but add another, twisting and scissoring that perfect heat open enough to accept him. 

Spock cannot argue, there is no point in saying that the sentiment is untrue. Instead, he wriggles on the fingers spearing him, and into the hand wrapped around his cock, breath hitching into a whine when Khan pulls his fingers out. Then, he can feel the bulbous head of Khan's cock pressing against his entrance, and he swallows. Khan mentally shushes him.

"I. . . will be gentle." Khan promises, almost shocked that he is allowing the Vulcan such kindness. He can feel the confusion and tentative acceptance from the other man. Spock is obviously at war with himself, trying to deny the connection that has formed from their bond, even with as good as it feels. Tremors reverberate down the link, like a guitar string being plucked as the head of the augment's cock teases the Vulcan's entrance. The cord thrums, resonating through their bodies until with a slight push and a cry from the other man, the head pops in just past the tight ring of muscles. 

It is excruciatingly tight, and Khan can feel the Vulcan trying to compose himself, biting his bottom lip as the augment, pushes inch after delicate inch into him. Spock wraps around him like a latex glove, a second skin that is just a hair from being painfully tight. Khan almost worries that he might be causing the other man pain, but pushes deeper, thrusting against Spock's sweet spot.

The Vulcan lets out a throaty moan, high pitched and agonizingly beautiful, hips twitching backwards to impale himself more fully on Khan's length. The augment lets out a throaty groan in approval, before pulling out slowly, and stabbing thoroughly back in, hitting the other man's prostate on each swipe. 

Soon, he is fucking the Vulcan against the shower wall, Spock's head lolling backwards onto his shoulder, and Khan kisses the side of his cheek. The connection between them hums, burning brighter, growing more powerful. Neither man can explain it, but the longer they continue, the more they desire the bond growing between the two of them. It crackles with an icy blue heat, growing ever hotter between the both of them. 

They can feel the orgasms before they happen, Spock's hips start thrusting madly, asshole spasming around Khan's length in a mad tattoo before he moans wantonly, seed erupting from his cock and spilling down Khan's hand, only to be washed down the drain. The augment comes half a second later, roaring his release into the Vulcan's puckered hole, filling him with his come. They stand, gasping for air as the shower water beats down on them, thread between them wrapping them even tighter together. 

Spock shudders slightly as Khan pulls out from him, and turns, dark eyes seeking out Khan's crystalline ones. There is so much unsaid in those depths, but the Vulcan doesn't have the words.

"So," Khan wonders aloud, "What happens now?"

The Vulcan closes his eyes and sighs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jim awakes with a start. The last thing he can remember is. . . concerned eyes. . . hands on the glass. . . fear ebbing away. . . into darkness. It takes a moment for him to gather his bearings, taking in the white hospital room around him.

"Don't be so melodramatic," Bones chides. "You were barely dead." The older man is joking with him, but can see the remnants on his face of distress and worry, a couple wrinkles etched into his flesh. The blonde can't help but think that he as the one that put them there. The doctor takes his vitals, and everything is foggy, until he sees Spock, walking towards him from the corner of the room, face impassive and eyes. . . troubled.

"Spock." Jim smiles. 

"Captain." The Vulcan returns, but there is something off. Jim can't tell right off the bat, but even Bones seems ill at ease. 

And then he sees him. Khan, sitting in a chair near the foot of his bed, presumably where Spock has also been sitting next to him. The augment rises, and Jim swallows a lump or irrational fear, before turning to look wildly at Spock. The Vulcan stays neutral, and Bones still looks away. But Khan. . .

Khan stares right at him, corners of his mouth twitching upwards, as if he has a secret that the Captain doesn't know about. "Spock?" Jim questions, brow furrowed. This would be a whole hell of a lot less awkward if he wasn't in a hospital gown and could actually move his limbs. His eyes trail to the augment standing so close to his friend, hairs on the back of his neck raising as he notes the skin on the back of their hands are actually touching.

Confusion must be evident in his eyes, because Spock sighs, "Captain, there is much we need to talk about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends part 1 of this epic. Be on the lookout for the next part in this series. I hope to get around to in soon!


End file.
